
p s . 

3515 




Poems 

West 




Class _i-S___ 
Book-iZ.^ 
Copyright ]^"- 



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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 




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The West to the East Gives Greeting 



POEMS OF THE WEST 



S. GERTSMON 




RICHARD G. BADGER 

THE GORHAM PRESS 
BOSTON, MASS. 



Copyright 1912 by S. Gertsmon 
All Rights Reserved 






The Gorham Press, Boston, U. S, A, 



CC!.A314454 



:i 



lO 1113^ beloved wife, the source of all 

my ambitions, I dedicate 

this book. 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

The West to the East gives 

Greeting Frontispiece ^ 

Again He Heard the Church Bells Chime ... 13 <^ 

Of River, Mountain and Valley \1 ^ 

On Came the Torrent, Resistless, Grim 
Visaged, Sounding the Knell to the 

Indian Race 21 i/" 

How like Grim Sentinels they stand 25 (/* 

All Hail to the City of Roses 29 i/ 

With Light Hand and Heart He Loosens 

His Seines 33^' 

Tell Me, I Pray You, Your Secrets 37 

Grasping the Wheel the Pilot Stands Gazing 41>/ 

Steady of Eye, Steady of Nerve 45^ 

Her Snow White Sails to the Winds 

Unfurled 49 "^ 

His Lonely Night Vigil Keep 53 

With Shovel and Pick He Roams the Wilds ol'y 

With Hand Upon Plow, Lightly Resting 61 ^ 

The Hoof -Beats are Music to the Cow- 
Puncher's Ears.- 05 

The Mighty Forest in Sombre Silence 69 ^^ 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Greeting 11 

The Pioneer's Reverie 12 

From the Heigthts 16 

The Passing of the Red Man 20 

The Peaks 24 

The City of Roses 28 

Toilers of the Sea 32 

The Gorge 36 

The Pilot 40 

Builders of the Air 44 

The Voyage 48 

The Sheepherder 51 

The Prospector 55 

The Plowman 59 

The Round Up 63 

The Forest 67 



POEMS OF THE WEST 



GREETING 

THE WEST to the East gives greeting, 
and opens the portals wide, 
To her sister from over the mountains 
she sends a welcome for her to abide — 
In the land of nature's splendor and 
with her enjoy the gifts. 
The hand of God hath showered, and where his 
works man's soul uplifts. 



Here in the land of plenty, in the land of the 

setting sun, 
Where the balmy winds blow softly, and winter's 

blasts are none, 
Where the rose's bloom and fragrance fill the air 

with sweet perfume, 
And the grandeur of creation blend in infinite 

attune. 

West, oh land of promise, where rails and water 

meet. 
Where the fertile land gives freely of all that is 

rich and sweet. 
All hail, oh Western Empire, sublimely grand in 

lore, 
The world shall pay thee homage, when they have 

known thee more. 

The West to the East gives greeting, and to all 

the world beside. 
She of matchless beauty, the nation's wealth and 

pride — 
Throws her gates wide open, let enter all who may. 
Into the land of plenty where the works of God 

hold sway. 

11 



THE PIONEER'S REVERIE 

THE WEST owes all that it is or ever hopes to be, 
to the hardy pioneer who risked death in many 
forms in his efforts to discover a new empire. 
Having performed his task and wresting a home 
from nature, he would often at the close of his event- 
ful life gaze contemplatingly about him, and dream, 
and dream. 

The pioneer stood gazing from his home in the 

Golden West, 
On that which his sturdy hand had sown, and 

God had abmidantly blest; 
Wheat and rye a-plenty the land with which to 

feed, 
The earth to give her bounty, where before was 

only weed. 

He gazed upon the mountain, and he gazed upon 

the vale; 
And thought of the days when he was young, 

of the days when he was hale; 
Again the call of the West came echoing to his 

ears, 
It brought new life to his chilled old heart, to his 

eyes it brought the tears. 

E'en while he sat in thought lost deep, his grizzled 

locks the sunset kissed. 
His snow-white hair, his bent old frame 'twas 

plain to see no hardship missed. 
Once more he heard the church bells chime in his 

old New England home; 
And with the turning back of time, he found 

himself about to roam. 
12 




Again He Heard the Church Bells Chime 



He had left his home, had left his friends, had cast 

his lot with the new-found West; 
Had braved the plains and desert drear, 'twas 

now his turn to sit and rest. 
His mighty arm had blazed the trail for those 

who after him might come; 
His ax of steel had hewn a path, amidst the wilds 

had won a home. 

He came, he conquered. Need more be said? A 

Western empire did he unfold; 
From out of chaos a change he wrought, his fields 

were many with grains of gold. 
And though the path with hardships strewn, and 

full of thorns the way. 
Yet paused he not to count the cost, nor from his 

purpose turned astray. 

All hail to thee, O pioneer! To you we owe all we 

behold; 
The lowing kine, the waving grain, the thriving 

cities with wealth untold. 
And when at last the great call comes, and you 

shall take your w^ell-earned rest. 
We'll hold thy name and mem'ry dear, O pioneer 

of the West, 



15 



FROM THE HEIGHTS 

STANDING on the top of ''Council Crest/' 
on the height:^ lying west of the citj/ of Portland, 
Oregon, one cannot help but become inspired 
by the beantiful panorama that meets the eye. Below 
at one's feet lies the city teeming with life; to the 
north and east runs the magnificent Columbia, 
winding in and out of the hills. Far away 
to the east, stands Mt. Hood like some sentinel 
keeping guard, as he has for centuries past, while 
in due succession to the north are the Three Sisters, 
and Mt. Ranier. Gazing upon this awe-inspiring 
picture, one forgets himself and is lost in wonder. 

From the heights I gaze and wonder, at the scene 

spread out below; 
Of river, mountain, and valley turned to gold in 

sunset's glow. 
I gaze entranced, enraptured, at the beautv of it 

all; 
While the grandeur of creation seems my being to 

enthral. 

What use of temples and churches? What use of 

prayers and hymns.^ 
Here with my God, the Creator, I stand while 

His glory teems; 
All around, about me, and I soar to ethereal realms 
And there am lost, and speechless, while fancy 

my soul o'erwhelms. 

Far above the city's noises, its bustle, dust and 

din; 
In peaceful contemplation I gather strength of 

spirit from within. 

16 




Of River, Mountain and Valley 



x\nd my soul in holy communion blends divinely, 

grand, sublime 
As I gaze in growing wonder at the infinity of 

time. 

Then, let my voice resounding, sing the praises 

which I feel; 
And let the whole world listen; and let o'er its 

senses steal 
The greatness of nature's beauty, let them stand 

with me. 
On the top-most heights and wonder at God's 

infinitv. 



19 



THE PASSING OF THE RED MAN 

OA^^ of the pathetic features of the stride of 
cirilization in this country is the rapid ex- 
tinction of the Indian — he irho was once lord 
and master of all this great domain. With ivhat 
emotion this stoic red man watches the fast exter- 
mination of his race, with ivhat bitterness he recog- 
nizes the superiority of the white man, and reluctantly 
takes on his modes and customs, I leave to the 
reader^ s conjecture. 

When this land was young and its children great, 

and no cloud obscured their clear-blue sky, 
When they worshipped their gods in their own, 

crude way, but always the one on high. 
Whether sun or moon, or shining star, their faith 

was all the same. 
Their simple hearts, and simpler minds with fervor 

became aflame. 

Deceit they knew not. With childish trust they 

met the whites with outstretched hand, 
They bade them welcome to their board, and 

made them welcome throughout the land. 
But they knew not the guile of the Spaniard's 

mind, until it was too late; 
Then in sudden wrath at their treacherous friend, 

the love was turned to hate. 

On sped the years, a great change came, the land 

with strangers o'errun. 
While they who fought, who bled and died, by 

cruel foe were hounded on. 
20 



/■ 







i 



Ox Came the Torrext, Resistless, Grim Visaged, 
souxdixg the kxell to the ixdian 
Race 



Driven from that which was theirs by right, 

theirs by justice of Heav'n above. 
Hard pressed they left their native hearths, while 

heart-rending cries the night air clove. 

Westward their course with hope renewed, follow- 
ing the sun while within their hearts, 

A new born hope of a future home, goaded them 
on as with arrow darts. 

Till at last they reached the boundless West, and 
pitched their tents on hill and vale. 

Gave thanks to the gods for their warriors brave, 
their loving wives and children frail. 

Here in their haunts they roamed the wilds, and 

lived their lives in tranquil mood. 
Fought their fights in open field, in fair- won battles 

their foes subdued. 
E'en while these tribes in Western climes lived on 

and thought themselves secure, 
They knew not the peril that o'er them hung, nor 

dreamt of the hardships they were to endure. 

On came the torrent, resistless, grim-visaged, 

sounding a knell to the Indian race, 
Civilization stalked on in its vantage, undaunted 

and fearless in its terrific pace. 
Thus in their fury and anguish they battled, 

fought for a cause that forever was lost. 
Kept up the wars till all hopes were shattered, 

and bought their existence at terrible cost. 



23 



THE PEAKS 

"M^ANY moons ago/' so runs an Indian legend, 
lyl^'ihe gods having become incensed at the 
tribes living in the vicinity of Mts. Hood, St. 
Helens, and Ranier; and because oj their incessant 
wars, threw up these enormous barriers to act as 
sentinels. And,'' continues the legend, ''did any 
of the gods wish to vent their wrath upon the offend- 
ing tribes, they would cause the mountains to belch 
forth fire and brimstone." 

How like grim sentinels they stand, the mountain 

peaks sublime and grand, 
Towering their summits of ice and snow, 'bove 

river and valley far below. 
Lifting their heads beyond the clouds, hiding the 

sun 'neath their snow-white crests, 
Gazing in scorn on hill and on dale, mirroring 

moon's rays from their pure, spotless breasts. 

Ages may come, ages may go. Peoples and 
nations cut down in their prime. 

Yet through it all these mountains shall stand, an 
enblem of grandeur of infinite time. 

And he who in reverence stands gazing spell- 
bound, with awe-inspiring, bated breath. 

With head uncovered, uttering no sound, thinks 
of the life that lives after death. 

Their beauty and splendor o'erwhelm him quite, 

and cause his thoughts to soar, 
To the utmost heights of the mountain top, as 

so many have before. 

24 




How Like Grim Sentinels They Stand 



There he may stand and drink his fill of that 

which the soul inspires, 
Of a scene sublime while its greatness, the mind 

as with rare wine fires. 

Then why rave of the pyramids of Egypt, of Italy's 

catacombs? 
They the mere handwork of mankind, built with 

man's blood and bones. 
While He, who these mountains created, and 

placed them in sight of all. 
Placed them for men His works to behold, their 

minds and hearts enthrall. 



27 



THE CITY OF ROSES 

PORTLAXD, Oregon, known throughout the 
world as the city of roses, has given over the first 
part of the month of June for an annual cele- 
bration — the rose festival. Here gather visitors from 
places ivherever the city of Portland is known, to 
pay homage to the siveetest of all flowers. 

All hail to the city of roses. All hail to the queen 

of the West. 
Where sunshine and flowers are brightest, and the 

land with plenty is blest. 
Where craft from the whole world over find a 

haven both calm and still, 
And the endless march of progress sounds its 

warning sharp and shrill. 

Where the grains of golden harvests bring to her 

their richest yield. 
And the luscious fruits of orchards vie their crops 

with that of field, 
W^here the flowers bloom in winter and the grass 

is always green, 
iVnd nature is ever smiling, with beauteous face 

serene. 

Here where the hearts of her children, always 

bids welcome to those 
Who come to her threshold in sorrow, while 

out of her full eyes there flows 
Grieving, compassion, and succor for a sister 

who mourns her lost. 
Extending all help with hand open, nor pausing 

to think of the cost. 




All Hail to the City of Roses 



Then pay her all honor due her, Rose City, our 
own beloved, 

Adorn her in flowers and garlands, let her sub- 
jects in humbleness bow. 

For her let a name of glory be written on tablets 
of time, 

Of the fairest city of roses, beautiful, grand, 
sublime. 



31 



TOILERS OF THE SEA 

M LL along the Columbia River, and especially 

AM where it empties into the Pacific, innumerahle 

fishing trawls can be seen. And many are 

the fishermen 7vho owe their living to the millions 

of salmon that infest these waters and are known 

by their deliciousness throughout the world. 

Through sunshine and storm, in fog or in rain, 

he casts off his fish-nets again, yet again, 
This son of the seas, reckless and bold, whose 

herculean efforts are ne'er in vain. 
Whose daring of danger, whose braving of death, 

in hist'ry's annals have found welcome space. 
Whose succor of comrade with last, failing breath, 

e'en deep seas his valor could ne'er efface. 

With light hand and heart he loosens his seines, 

letting them sink in the river's dark depths, 
To gather their fill of the daih^ catch and empty 

them out of the o'erburdened nets. 
'Tis bread for his wife and his children it means, 

the deep must its harvest give up to his hand, 
To him, toiler of waters, the world must give 

heed, as well as his brother, the toiler of land. 

Seas may run high, the storm-king rage, little 

recks he the elements dire. 
The warring deep has thrilled him through, has 

set his mind and heart on fire. 
He heeds not that his skiff is frail, nor that the 

seething billows foam. 
His fighting blood the sea hath roused — She, he 

vowed, should be his home. 




With Light Heart and Hand He Loosens His 
Seines 



Thus wore the day, and he who toiled that they I 

on land may have their fill, I 

Of ocean's choicest, richest morsels, gave his best ^ 

years with no thought of ill. 

For the sea to him was a thing of beauty, it made i 

him drunk as with rich, red wine, | 

It filled his soul with its boundless grandeur, and j 

turned his thoughts to a power divine. 

Oh, for a voice to sing the praises of these brave \ 

toilers who risk their all. 

Who brave the sea in fog and fury, and are lost j 

forever in its death-white pall, j 

Who fight and strive with trawl and line, while i 

they on land are slumb'ring on, 1 

Through sleepless nights their vigil keeping, and i 

still are sleepless when breaks the dawn. \ 



35 1 

i 



THE GORGE 

OA^^ of the most sublime and aive- inspiring 
sights that meet one's eye in the West are the 
many canyons and gorges, hundreds of feet 
deep and running betiveen tivo mountains ivhose 
perpendicular walls defy all ascent. As we stand 
gazing at this wonderful work of nature, we are, in 
spite of ourselves, led on to contemplation. But 
we, mere mankind, cannot solve this baffling prob- 
lem, but must leave it to time eternal ivhen, ivho 
knows, we shall learn the truth. 

Oh, nature, you give us a problem that the wisest 

of us cannot solve. 
Of the wonders of all thy creations, of the stars 

and heavens above. 
Of the earth beneath, of its mountains, of its 

rivers and valleys which lie 
With the sun and moon shining always, in beauty 

and splendor on high. 

Tell me, I pray you, your secrets, of the end and 

beginning of time. 
Of thy past — of the countless ages, that have 

made this world sublime. 
Of the mission that is given to mankind, of the 

veil that from our eyes hides 
That which we long to gaze on, which our body 

and soul divides. 

Here is a scene that is worthy of the most 

famous artist's brush, 
That causes men to grow God-like, and their 

voices sink to a hush, 




Tell Me, I I^ray i ou. Your Secrets 



As they gaze in mute contemplation on a sight 

that is heavenly grand. 
Nor can they from this spot of glory their eyes 

elsewhere command. 

Cities may teem with their thousands, the works 
of man's hand may seem great, 

But here where nature is builder, even in its 
rough and crude state, 

'Tis superior to all crafts of mankind, its hand- 
work so noble and grand, 

When cities are wiped off the planet, His works 
shall for ages j^et stand. 



39 



THE PILOT 

/N bringing ships into the harbor much depends 
npon the pilot. He must know bay, river or 
harbor as would any man who drives on the 
public highway, and in order to become acquainted 
with the waterways, must serve his apprenticeship 
upon different river craft before he can become 
eligible to hold the license of a pilot. He must 
begin from the bottom, from that of a deck-hand, 
and mount step by step to the high position. 

Storm-tossed and battered by the sea's angry 

waves, her canvas and rigging torn into shreds, 
With rudder dismantled, the battle-scarred ship 

her remnant of white wings weakly she spreads. 
"Oh for a breath of God-giving breeze," captain 

and crew with longing cry out, 
The harbor's in sight, oh welcome news, "The 

pilot! the pilot I" hoarsely they shout. 

Yes, 'tis the pilot, in tug-boat, approaching, a 
help and a guide to all seafaring men, 

He first to welcome, he last to leave them, shout- 
ing a farewell till they meet again. 

But ah, what a parting on ocean's vast bosom 
for them who cannot the future foretell. 

Perchance they'll return to the harbor they're 
leaving, while the winds send the message 
"ahoy, all's well." 

Grasping the wheel the pilot stands gazing, 
always ahead at the dim harbor lights. 

Steady of hand, of eye ever watchful, while the 
sea-battered veterans greet the home sights. 
40 




Gkasfinc; thk Wheel the Pilot Stands Gazixg 



Their loud acclamations the night air is piercing, 
theirs is a joy that bursts forth without bounds, 

They gather on deck their homesick eyes feasting, 
while ears are assailed by familiar sounds. 

The vessel is docked, the pilot steps forward, 
grasping the captain's sea-worn hand, 

"You've brought her through," he cries with 
voice trembling, "you've brought her safe 
home, sir, I knew you would land." 

Then leaving the ship, his duty well finished, he 
wended his way to his home with light heart. 

He had guided the vessel safe to her anchor, he'd 
leave her till time again to depart. 



43 



BUILDERS OF THE AIR 

r^ VEN the various cities of the West can now 
r^ boast of sky-scrapers. Buildings rising to the 
"^"^ height of twelve and fourteen stories can be 
readily met loith. The layman standing upon solid 
earth and gazing up at the ivorkmen, ivho look no 
larger than manikins, often wonders at the courage 
and cool-headedness these builders of the air possess 
when by the slightest misstep they may be dashed 
hundreds of feet to the ground below. 

Hammer and rivet, iron and steel, oh for a pen 
with which to feel, 

To tell of the dangers that compass them round, 
far, far, above the solid ground. 

Steady of eye, steady of nerve, must these workers 
be, nor must they swerve 

To the right, or the left, on their high, dizzy 
perch, a mind full of caution must they pre- 
serve. 

These builders of the air, dauntless and brave, 

whose herculean efforts the world admires. 
Whose untiring labors with both mind and hand, 

naught but men's highest praises inspires. 
Theirs is the life that so often has paid the toll 

that is needed so that the world 
March on in its greatness, unconquered, untamed, 

its banner of progress to the wild winds unfurled. 

Muscles of steel, of iron their hearts, eyes that 

flash as coals of fire, 
Up shoots the rivet of white-heat steel, sent on 

its journey higher, yet higher. 
44 




Steady op^ Eve, Steady of Nerve 



Sent on its mission })y unerring hand, to land 

safely into the can extended, 
Set into phiee in this pond'rous mass of iron and 

steel in high space suspended. 

At last all is done. They who have labored, are 

all but forgotten, their names are not heard. 
Here stands the effort of human creation, its 

head in just pride to the heavens is reared, 
But they who have risked in bounden duty, their 

lives and limbs for the daily wage, 
The glory not theirs, only the labor; they're 

gone from here to their next building stage. 



47 



THE VOYAGE 

THE ship has finished loading and is now 
learing on her voyage. She carries a cargo of 
all description — gjfoin for Enrope, Inmher for 
Siberia. She puts out to sea, not knowing whether 
she ivill return to her port in safety. 

Up goes a cheer as the anchor is weighed, the 

gallant ship puts out to sea, 
Her snow-white sails to the winds unfurled, she 

leaves the harbor on the lee. 
Her new painted prow the still wave cleaves, her 

being becomes with life imbued, 
The flag at her mast-head proudly is waving, the 

raging seas she has subdued. 

On billowy crest headlong and heedless, she 

shapes her straight, unerring course, 
Her only guide the starry heavens, while the 

siren's call follows perforce. 
Her captain and crew free and light-hearted, 

lustily sing to the ocean blue, 
Reckless, defiant, for fray ever ready, they to 

their duty always prove true. 

Storms will rage as the broad sea she crosses, 

Neptune his watery snares will put forth. 
Waves will break o'er her from stern to main-top, 

she will become the ocean's wild sport. 
And perhaps — who knows — when storm-driven, 

she'll pass through the breakers into the calm, 
Into safe haven, into still waters, into the harbor — 

safe from all harm. 

48 



J?Z7 T ~-^.\ 




Her Snow White Sails to the Winds Unfurled 



THE SHEEPHERDER 

]\/f-^^^ rememher the recent range wars that 
[wl ^'^^^ ^^ bitterly fought by sheep and cattle men. 
Papers and magazines devoted columns and 
pages, and the news and stories were read and 
pondered upon. Many lives were lost in the con- 
flict for grazing lands until the government at 
Washington threatetied to take a hand. Yet, 
though the sheep men were on the weaker side, still 
did they survive the dark days and can still be seen 
at their old haunts. 

With staff in hand the herder watches his flocks as 

they graze, 
In foot-hills or up in the mountains, in summer 

or through autumn's haze. 
Till the winter's frost and bluster drives him to 

warmer clime, 
Then hies he into the valley, with his charges he 

reaches betime. 

Though the winds a hurricane blowing, the very 

mountains may shake, 
And the thunder's roar, and the lightning, cause 

the dark heavens to break. 
Then must he, ever waking, his lonely night vigil 

keep, 
Lest the wild wolf and the coyote, their bloody 

harvest reap. 

Like a mother the new-born he cares for, and 

brings them safe into the fold, 
They who have dropped by the wayside, he 

shields from the beast who — grown bold — 
51 



Lurks for his prey in the darkness, and pounces 

with unerring aim, 
While the flock with nature's j)ure instinct, the 

herder's protection all claim. 

And like the Mighty Herder above us, who his 

own flock never leaves, 
To the tender mercies of vultures, and their sufl^er- 

ings always relieves. 
So does this staunch, lonely tender, of countless 

thousands of shec}). 
Watch over his tender charges, while they in 

security sleej). 



52 




His Lonely Night Vigil Keep 



THE PROSPECTOR 

Ik TO sooner had winter's rigor left the mountain 
l\l irhen the prospector, loading his pack-mule 
with provisions and tools to last him during 
his trip into the gold regions, sets out with hope in 
his heart renewed. For years has he hunted that 
elusive strike, and as yet has not succeeded in locat- 
ing it. But his hopes, though lagging during the 
dreary winter months, are revived when nature puts 
on new life. And once more he starts out with a 
golden vision ever before him. 

With shovel and pick he roams the wilds, hunting 

earth's rich golden store, 
To him she must give which with her buried lies, 

she must withhold it no more. 
For Dame Fortune at last upon him hath smiled, 

and given her own consent. 
And he, like brave knight of olden times, on 

conquest of gold is bent. 

The mountain is steep, and dangerous betimes, 

the path in the clouds is lost. 
Yet little recks he the dizzy heights, nor does he 

count the cost. 
Gold here lies w^hicli for him will buy all that his 

heart desires, 
Its yellow gleam his eyesight blinds, its richness 

his whole being fires. 

No more shall want incompass him round, nor 

hunger hold her sway, 
The night hath passed, the clouds rolled by, at 

last has dawned the day, 
55 



His sun so long in pall obscured, again shall shine 

for him, 
And he who has drunk of misery's fill, joy's cup 

shall quaff to th' brim. 



56 




With Shovel and Pick He Roams the Wilds 



THE PLOWMAN 

M \D the spears shall be turned into plow- 
/-M^ shares.'' Such ukis the prophesy in the time 
of war. And where the Indian tribal wars 
and the ^i^ars between the red man and the white 
waged fiercest, noiv wave the grains of ivheat and 
barley, while the plowman whose hand and brain 
has caused this to pass, stands gazing upon his 
handiwork, the lord of all he surreys. 

\yith hand upon plow lightly resting, his labors 

he proudly surveys, 
Gazes on dell and on meadow, on his horses and 

cattle who graze. 
On grains of gold and silver, waving softly in the 

summer breeze, 
Thinks of his passing hardships, and dreams of 

his future ease. 

Labor his hands had hardened, and caused dark 

furrows to grow, 
In rich, dark earth he had planted, so that the 

seeds which he sow 
Thrive in rain and sunshine, and gladden the 

hearts of all men 
With rich and bountiful harvests, which are 

gathered again, 3'et again. 

Here in the wilds he had striven, to gather from 

nature his toll. 
The best years of life he had given, his conquest 

had been sharp and bold. 
His future home he had planted, so that those 

who may after him come, 
59 



Shall find a haven most blessed, nor wish any 
further to roam. 

With hand upon i)low lightly resting, and eyes 

that a pure vision see, 
While tears the dark cheeks o'erflowing, to his 

heart l)ring a sweet melody. 
x\nd when he has ended his mission, and his 

works on this earth are done, 
Shall he, he wonders in silence, to his well-earned 

rest be gone.^^ 



60 



-v, 




With Hand Upon Plow Lightly Resting 



THE ROUND-UP 

TWICE a year the countless cattle on the West- 
ern plains are gathered together for branding. 
The " ro7ind-up,''' as it is called, means a 
cessation for the many cowboys who have herded the 
bunch continuously throughout the summer. And 
noiD comes a reckless expetuliture of the accuimdated 
earnings that have steadily been growing. For, 
being out in the mountains, the cow-puncher has no 
chance to spend his wages. 

The hoof-beats are music to the cow-puncher's 

ears, while the round-up his very soul tries, 
As he dashes on mount as wild as he, and the 

vast, moving herd espies. 
For 'tis the life he loves, this rover bold, 'tis his 

sweetheart, wife and home. 
This wild land untamed by the hand of man, 

though its vast expanse he may roam. 

He loves its wild, wide ranges, its mountains, its 

deserts drear. 
Out on the barren in darkness, he slumbers with 

no thought of fear. 
As a child he trusts her always, his guide the 

heav'nly star. 
This beacon he knows will not fail him, its twinkle 

he sees from afar. 

The herd he knows by instinct, its wild and 

tranquil moods. 
The restless snort and pawing, that cannot be 

subdued. 

63 



When the roar of their stampeding sounds like 

death-knell to his heart, 
iVnd the countless thousands, hoof-beats cause 

e'en mem'ry to depart. 

Yet, spite all these dangers, he loves these west- 
ern plains. 

Its perils to him are sweetest, its grandeur his 
wild blood tames. 

The sounds of the round-up that echo, through 
mountain, hill and dale. 

He would not leave its presence, beside which 
all other things pale. 



64 




The Hoof-Beats are Music to the Cow Puncher's Ears 



THE FOREST 

T I THILE the forests of the Eastern states are 
\/\/ being depleted, those of Oregon, Washington, 
Idaho and California give their yields un- 
ceasingly to the lumber markets of the country. 
And, besides supplying our ow?i land, the products 
of these Western forests find their way into other 
parts of the world. 

In towering strength, with proud heads upUfted 
in grandeur to the clear, blue sky. 

The mighty forests in sombre silence lie peace- 
fully sleeping while through them sigh 

The mild winds of summer, when fair Dame 
Nature dons her garments of beauteous green, 

Or winter's harsh blasts in their frozen fury, 
clothes their boughs in snow-white sheen. 

From their comrades bold they at last are severed, 

to meet the needs of the world of men. 
But ah! though their lives are cut and sundered, 

yet shall they sprout and grow again. 
The beauty and wonders of nature's fulfillment 

shall form a long and endless sign, 
Of the mission that is given to all creation by the 

power above us, the power divine. 



67 




The Mi3Hrr Forests ix Sombre Silence 



MAY SI 1912 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



015 898 397 7 






